


A Recipe for Disaster (...and cookies)

by flufftRaSH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Baking, Bottom Castiel, Canon Compliant up to beginning of Season 9, Cas adores Dean, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Cuddling, Dean is in love with Cas, Fiesty Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Honestly its all just crack, Human Castiel, I can't do titles, Like Really in Love, M/M, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Overall fluffiness, POV Dean, Power Bottom Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Random Word Generator Prompt, Scenting, Sorry - for all of it tbh, Top Dean Winchester, but crack taken seriously, random words - "flour" and "counter", some sexual tension I guess, well...an attempt at smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flufftRaSH/pseuds/flufftRaSH
Summary: Dean has a rough day. One full of aches and itches, no sleep, unresolved sexual tension, and...baking (?)Cas tries to cheer Dean up with some homemade goodies.OR where:Dean hits his rut and accidentally ends up bringing Cas into his first heat for billions of years, ensuing fun en(counter)s--haha I'm hilarious, I know--a flustered Dean, smug Sammy, cute baker Castiel, and as much sweet, sugary, tooth-rotting fluff as I could possibly fit into a barely readable ficlet.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	A Recipe for Disaster (...and cookies)

Shutting the bunker door with a little more force than necessary, Dean stomps down the stairs drenched from head to toe. His shoes make a wet squelch with every step he takes, causing him to wince in discomfort. He dejectedly stares at them, mourning the fact that they’ll be squeaky for the rest of the month. 

Taking a deep breath, he realizes that he’s probably reeking of some ungodly mix of distress and wet dog. He lets out a long sigh before continuing downstairs, too exhausted to care.

All in all, Dean’s day wasn’t exactly the best. In fact, it sucked toes. The toes of a really crinkly, stinky foot and it just happened to use him as a toothbrush. 

* * *

Dean had woken up this morning at some god-forsaken hour with his bladder begging for release, pinching his stomach and cramping up his lower back. Yet even after he relieved his body of the freaking Niagara Falls, the pain didn’t ease up one bit. In fact, Dean swears it got worse and traveled to his neck too. 

Rolling his head and shoulders as he grumbled, he stalked down the corridor past his room, knowing he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. He was mumbling about how his body is becoming that of a rickety old robot when a sleepy question interrupted his perfectly plausible theories on the matter.

“Dean?” came a familiar low rumble.

Startled, Dean whirled around and half-whispered, half-yelled, “Cas! Geez, you can’t go ‘round spookin’ people like that. One day you’ll end up givin’ someone a heart attack!” 

Namely, Dean Winchester. The very same Dean Winchester who has been on the FBI’s most wanted list, has killed more creatures than he can possibly count, and, oh yeah! hunts monsters, ghosts, and anything and everything starred in people’s worst nightmares. So why he’s always jumpy when he hears that particular voice, Dean honestly has no clue (well, he has some clue, but who’s to say he’s right...right?).

Relaxing again, Dean yawned and rubbed at his eyes to see better in the dark hallway, whose only source of light was that coming from Cas’s room. Now that his eyes have adjusted to the semi-darkness, he can see Cas standing in the doorframe, clad in the pajamas Dean had gifted him for Christmas: a navy t-shirt saying “Made in Heaven” with tiny angel wings on either side of “Heaven” and a “Lifetime Warranty” label on the back, along with a pair of plaid black and red flannel pants. 

Cas himself was looking at him from beneath heavy eyelids and lashes, sleep-mussed hair falling in his face as he tilted his head confusedly and absently scratched at the spot just above his hip bone. Now that wasn’t an adorable sight to behold, not at all. His inner alpha preened at the sight of Cas wearing _his_ —yes, his—Christmas gift. 

Although, it was still unusual for Dean to see the angel like this. Cas has been human for a couple weeks now, requiring that he eat, drink, and, like right now, sleep. The transition was rough to say the least. Without his angelic powers, Castiel had learned the hard way what exactly it meant to be human. A hunt didn’t go to plan (like they ever really do) and Cas had been faced with a teenager who had been attacked by some ghoul, bleeding out from a deep gash across her stomach and slits across her wrists. She didn’t make it. To Dean that was just another day on the job, but for _Cas_ , where a cut used to be nothing more than a mere flesh wound that he could heal with a simple touch to the forehead...let’s just say it took its toll on the angel. 

Shaking his head of a despondent, nearly catatonic Castiel, Dean addressed the more relevant matter at hand: the fact that Cas is awake right now.

Cas is never awake. He rarely rises before 12:00pm, and when he does, well, to say he’s scary would be an understatement—the dude’s frickin’ _terrifying_. His warm ocean blue gaze transforms into a downright murderous ice-cold glare, which feels as much when aimed at you. The guy is practically Mr. Freeze only without the need for a hightech Freeze-Gun, his glare icy enough in of itself to render anyone caught in its beam frozen on the spot. So why Dean is still able to move under the recently-turned-human’s scrutiny right now is beyond him. One could say it’s a...Christmas miracle (top of the line humor right there—man, he makes himself laugh). 

Voicing his thoughts, Dean asked, “What’re you doin’ up this early?” He eyed Cas warily, looking for any sign of demonic possession or something of the sort and checking his gaze for any maleficence. He turned up empty. 

Castiel crossed his arms and leaned into the doorframe. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Yeah, well, I asked first,” Dean replied, watching the ex-angel and slowly mimicking his stance, “So what woke you from your nap in the meadows, Flower?” He inwardly snickers at his name drop, a self-satisfied smile taking the place of laughter. 

“Hmm, I think that name is better suited to describe you.” Cas tilted his chin up, nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he took a breath. “Your scent is quite overpowering at the moment.”

Briefly surprised at Cas’s understanding of the Bambi reference, Dean sputtered, “Wh-what?” Dean didn’t notice anything. Sending Cas a disbelieving look, he lifted his arm and sniffed. A horrible decision, really. 

Immediately, he turned his nose away, exhaling in a loud puff. _Yikes_. 

Dean shook his head a little. “Uhm...yeah, I honestly, uhh...don’t smell anything, Cas.” He gestured to his nose, “Must be something wrong with your nose or somethin’.” 

Castiel leveled him with an unimpressed stare.

Yeah, Dean knew his pursuit of demonstrating that he didn’t stink was very much fruitless. But, because he just seemed to have to embarrass himself further—as if waking up the friggin’ Sleeping Beauty of the heavenly realm with his scent wasn’t enough—he decided to follow his argument to the end.

“Like, your transition from angel to human probably just, uh...” Cas raised an eyebrow. Okay, dangerous territory. Noted. “Made you more sensitive to things, like my scent and…” _and what?_ “...stuff,” Dean finished lamely.

Great argument, Winchester. Pat yourself on the back, you brought up probably the most sensitive topic for Cas and didn’t even end up defending your own point with it. 

Dean ducked his head in a mix of embarrassment, shame, and dread. “Dammit. Sorry, Cas, that was a low blow. I dunno what’s up with me right now, uhm, you should just go back to bed and-”

While he berated himself for his insensitivity, he didn’t notice when Castiel smoothly slid up behind him until the feeling of fingers digging in between his shoulder blades abruptly knocked him out of his thoughts.

He jumped, reeling around to face the owner of those magical hands. “C-Cas! What did I literally just say about spookin’ me?” He really is going to end up having a heart attack if this keeps up.

Turns out, Cas was a lot closer than he’d initially calculated. Before he knew it, Dean was nose-to-nose with the angel-turned-human who actually smelled really really nice, like an apple orchard in the fresh mountain air with just a hint of sweet vanilla, and that smooth neck was right within reach and probably smelled even better than the air surrounding Cas and if he just moved his head four inches he could dig his nose into it and scent and...woah, what the-?

“Dean,” Cas’s voice broke him from his momentary confusion, causing him to look into deep cerulean pools. “It may not be my place to say this, but-” He paused for Dean to give him the go-ahead. Dean nodded in permission for him to continue. “But I believe that you are in your rut,” ending the statement with a nod of his own.

“My rut?” Dean swore he wasn’t supposed to go into it for another couple months. He rolled his shoulders again. Although, the sore muscles make sense now. _Why’d I stop Cas’ massaging? Stupid spastic reflexes_.

“Yes. A rut is a phase in which alpha males are in their prime to mate, usually occurring twice a year. It can have certain side-effects depending on the person, including, but not limited to: craving more physical contact, becoming more protective and possessive, aching in the back and shoulders, and being more easily aroused and sensitive in the geni-”

Dean clapped his hand over Castiel’s mouth, using the movement to also push him to a more comfortable distance. _Still no regard for personal space I see_. “Yeah! Yeah, I know what a friggin’ rut is, man. It’s just a little unexpected.” He sighed, “I thought I still had another month or two before it came.” 

And because he wasn’t prepared for it, he’s not stocked with the necessary... _supplies_ , to help him through. _Dammit, Sammy and his dumb prank wars_. 

Gently unclamping Dean’s hand from his mouth, Cas grasped the alpha’s wrist, inadvertently pulling Dean back into their original position. He brought his other hand’s index and middle fingers to the pulse point there. “Your heart is beating abnormally fast, Dean.” _Ha! Yeah no shit, Sherlock! You brought me back within range of your awesome scent, which, by the way,_ does _things to my brain, so forgive me for getting a little excited_. 

“Your rut is making you easily excitable,” Castiel stated matter of factly, unaware of Dean’s internal conflict. “Being awake at this hour must be too much this early in your cycle, causing your heart to compensate.” 

Suddenly, Dean’s head was being gently ushered down to the base of Cas’ neck, where his scent is most potent.

“Cas?” Dean questioned as he tried to lift his head back up again. “Wha- what’re you doing?” 

Castiel’s iron-clad grip, however, didn’t budge. _Turned human, my ass_.

“It is advised for alphas in their ruts to have an omega, partner, or some alternative to help them through. Usually, certain scents have the ability to soothe the rut aches and itches, and to calm their overstimulated senses,” he informed Dean.

This time Cas more forcefully guided Dean’s face back to the juncture between his neck and shoulders and held him there. “So I, as an omega, would like to aid in easing your erratic heartbeat and pains at the very least.” 

Dean had to admit that Cas did smell heavenly at the moment, the aroma of freshly cut apples drizzled in honey and vanilla wafting around Dean’s nose. But before he gave into the overwhelming urge to scent the omega to his heart’s content, he needed Castiel’s absolute consent. “Are you sure, Cas? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or feel obligated to do this. I can always take some Tylenol and find a nice perfume or just suck it up-”

“Dean, if I weren’t sure I would not be offering.” Cas paused thoughtfully. “Nor would I be the one holding you here. If I were to assess the situation, it would seem as though you are the one who needs to be sure.” 

The omega released Dean and cupped his face, tenderly turning it so that green eyes met blue. The alpha reflexively leaned into the touch. “Would you be okay with this? Like you stated before, I do not intend to make you uncomfortable either. So if you would like to attempt another method, I will not be opposed.” 

Wow, Cas looked so sincere, those azure orbs wide and imploring. How could a guy resist? It’s just some platonic sniffing. Nothing special about it, just two dudes enjoying the other’s scent. Yeah, perfectly fine. Obligatory, even. Not romantic. This is good.

“Okay,” Dean breathed. 

Slowly, he lowered his head back down to the omega’s neck, gently brushing his nose across the smooth skin there, and took a deep breath. 

Cas’ scent hit him like a goddamn sugar rush. The fresh apple and honey aroma filled his lungs and shot through his veins infusing pure _pleasure_ with his bloodstream. Instantly, the aches in his back evaporated, the pain seeping from his bones. Before his mind could catch up with his body, Dean was shoving his nose further into the juncture and wrapping his arms around Cas’ waist to secure himself against the omega. His hands slowly stroked Castiel's sides, fingers gently digging into the t-shirt, then wandered to the small of his back, resting there.

When the alpha registered his actions, he became stalk still, nose stopping in its journey along Cas’ neck. Yet Dean’s traitorous body wouldn’t let go of Castiel, enjoying the intimacy of an unmated omega and the soothing effects of this certain one’s scent. Not to mention the fact that he might have a teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, _very_ small crush, which doesn’t exactly help the matter. 

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he whispered. Dean felt the heat of a bright red blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. _Thank Chuck for the darkness of the hallway_. “I can’t let go...I-I really can’t…your scent, it's helping a lot with the aches and, uhm, my-” he took a deep breath. _Bad idea_. Now he definitely won’t be able to let go. “-my alpha… itreallylikesholdingyou,” Dean blew through the last few words as he felt the blush run to the tips of his ears. 

When Cas started to shift in his grip, Dean involuntarily tightened his arms around the omega. But instead of trying to free himself, Castiel slowly brought his hands up to perch on the back of the alpha’s neck and lowered his head to Dean’s own scent gland. Then the omega tentatively settled his nose at the spot between neck and shoulder and inhaled.

Caught by surprise, Dean’s head snapped upright, green eyes wide in shock. He tried to catch Castiel’s gaze but ended up merely with a faceful of soft jet black hair and the lightly tanned skin of Cas’ neck (which, if Dean thought about it, looked to be flushed a pretty pink). When Cas began to hesitantly rub his nose softly against Dean, the alpha automatically tipped his head to allow him better access. 

At the invitation, the omega became bolder, running up the length of Dean’s neck and back down again, his lips occasionally brushing up against skin. 

_Up and down_. Cas splayed one of his palms across the seam between head and neck, tugging Dean closer. _Up and down_. The omega’s cheek joined his nose to nuzzle the alpha, dragging the length of his body along with his movements. _Up and down_. Castiel’s other hand inched its way into Dean’s hair and slender fingers played with the shorter strands at the base of his head. 

Due to the omega’s ministrations, Dean had to admit that he was very much turned on. He felt his breaths coming out in short pants, felt his heart pounding sporadically, felt his skin warming up to an almost unbearable heat wherever Cas’ hands would wander. The fresh, honey-glazed apple scent was becoming sweeter and sweeter—even more _perfect_ —with every breath he took, and it clouded his mind with _need_.

And God _,_ did he need. He needed Cas; he needed to touch, to scent, to rub himself all over the omega. To _claim_. 

What they were doing was so damn _intimate_. Dean had never actually scented any of his previous partners, only ever thinking of doing so with Lisa and that was just because she had mentioned it. Scenting—scent _bonding_ —was meant to lead up to foreplay, even considered a type of foreplay itself. And they were doing it. _Okay so, maybe..._ maybe _I have more than a small crush on Cas_. 

If this kept up, Dean thought he was going to completely lose himself in the ex-angel. So, taking the last pieces of his very quickly dwindling self-control, he pushed past the haze to think about Cas. Cas, who has never really shown this much interest in, well, in anyone, romantically or sexually. 

Because of this, albeit pleasant, out of character behavior, Dean quietly asked in a strangled voice, “Cas? You alright?” 

Castiel froze his motions, tensing up in the alpha’s arms. 

Panicking and not wanting Cas to leave, Dean quickly rephrased, “I mean, you just don’t usually seem interested in,” he gestured to their bodies pressed up against each other, “ _this_. Scenting and hugging and...stuff...Not that it’s bad! Or anything...just different, I guess.” 

Cas mumbled something into Dean’s collar, his voice muffled by the alpha’s shirt. 

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.” 

Cas lifted his head and kept his gaze averted from Dean’s face, a blush, deep enough red to be seen with the minimal light of the hallway, spreading across his cheeks. “I’m not.”

When Dean didn’t say anything in response, the omega continued, “Interested, I mean. At least not usually.” Even though Dean knew this—hell, he ceased Castiel’s extremely arousing actions because he knew—the alpha couldn’t stop the disappointment that settled in at those words.

Cas’ fingers started to fidget with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck, causing Dean to let out a low mewl and flex his hands at the omega’s waist. “If I were to be honest, I have not done this in a... _very_ long time.”

 _What’s that supposed to mean?_ “How long?”

Somehow Castiel’s blush gets even darker as he replied, “A couple thousand millennia. Possibly longer.”

A couple billion years?! How’s that even possible? 

As if sensing Dean’s unspoken question, Cas clarified, “Angels are able to regulate their cycles, to control when and how intense they are. I never felt the urges usually associated with our biology unless I was, in fact, in heat. So I decided to stop them altogether, seeing no purpose in allowing a cycle that would be more of a hindrance than anything else.” The omega nervously bit his lips, still keeping their eyes from making contact. “It would seem as though my transition from angel to...to _human_ has allowed those instincts to kick back in again.”

Castiel finally brought his gaze up to Dean’s, the stunning sapphire of his eyes capturing the alpha’s full attention like a moth to a flame. “Your scent is quite alluring.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to blush. He couldn’t help but be a little bashful about that. “O-oh,” was his response. The alpha cleared his throat, “Glad to, uhm, be of service…?” 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, lifting his chin to the side, and harrumphed. “I don’t believe it’s doing a very _good_ service. The only thing it seems to be ‘servicing’ is my own cycle,” he airquoted as best he could without unwinding his arms from Dean’s neck, “which I have been keeping at bay for an extremely long time.” 

The omega took no action to remove himself from Dean. _Interesting._

Huffing out a soft laugh at the omega’s sassy manner and, apparently, emboldened by it, Dean leaned in closer so that their noses almost brushed and amusedly asked, “Do you want me to let go?”

At that, Cas dropped his gaze and buried his face back in the crook of Dean’s neck. After a few moments, the omega petulantly grumbled, “No.” 

“You sure? ‘Cause, like I said before, I can go find something, or _someone_ , else to help.”

Castiel tightened his arms around the alpha’s neck and locked his fingers in place. He shook his head, hair tickling Dean’s chin as he did so.

Smiling, the alpha said lowly, “Alright.” 

This time when Dean nuzzled up against Cas the omega’s scent was almost too overpowering. Thank Chuck Castiel is okay with this, ‘cause as soon as Dean got a whiff of that incredible aroma he knew he was done for. The freshly sliced apple and honey smell was laced with a more potently sweet vanilla than before, making it that much more pleasant to the already intoxicated alpha.

As Dean happily dug his nose deeper into Castiel’s neck to breathe as much of that wonderful fragrance as possible, the omega unwrapped his arms from the alpha’s neck and slid them underneath Dean’s to massage the tense muscles at his shoulder blades. 

Immediately, Dean fell against Cas and rumbled contentedly, the alpha affectionately nosing at all the skin he had access to. The skin that was all _his_ for the taking. Dean could feel the omega laugh and barely lifted his head to shoot Castiel a half-hearted glare, catching a glimpse of his soft smile, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

Face heated in embarrassment, Dean looked away and returned to his previous engagement. He then slid one of his hands down towards the curve of the omega’s ass and squeezed it in retaliation. Cas gasped, his hands stuttering in their massage. 

Dean smirked, raising his head up to look at Cas’ flushed face. “Laughing is rude, Cas,” he teased, punctuating the statement with another squeeze.

The omega looked up at him with pupils blown wide and mouth open in a little “o” shape, breathing in ragged huffs. And then Cas’ expression morphed within seconds.

Now gazing at him through half-lidded eyes, the corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly, the omega leaned in until their lips were only centimeters apart. “My apologies,” he slowly went past Dean’s mouth, faintly trailing his lips across the alpha’s cheek, and purred into his ear, “ _alpha_.” 

Little Dean perked up at that title. _Okay, maybe I have a thing for being called “alpha.”_

Dean gulped as Cas leisurely circled his nose along the helix of his ear then down to rub against his neck again. Becoming more confident with each of his movements, Castiel brought his arms back around the alpha’s neck and began to drag blunt nails up and across his scalp, causing Dean to let out a quiet groan. 

The alpha buried his face in Cas’ neck and brought his hands back up to the omega’s waist. He slipped them underneath his t-shirt and rubbed circles into the soft skin at Cas’ hips with his thumb, squeezing gently in encouragement. 

Taking the hint, Castiel raked his fingers through Dean’s hair, dragging another suppressed moan from the alpha. The omega then tangled his fingers in Dean’s dirty blond strands and used the grip to draw himself closer so that the length of his body was flush against Dean’s, essentially molding them together. 

They writhed in the other’s arms, practically rutting against each other; chests heaving, hands wandering, skin overheating, and bodies pressing for dominance.

One way or another, Dean ended up pushing Cas against the wall, one hand still gripping his hip and the other pressed to the wall just next to the omega’s head. The alpha’s breaths came out in labored short puffs as he gradually became more and more drunk on Cas’ scent, Cas’ touch, Cas’ _everything_. 

“C-ah, Cas,” Dean panted, becoming light-headed from the stimulation, “N-mm, need you, hah, Cas.” He trailed his lips from the crook of the omega’s neck to his collarbone, tongue darting out to lick the sugary sweat gathering there. _Damn, tastes like apple pie too._

Cas gasped loudly at the new sensation, casting his head back and letting it thump against the wall. One hand gripped Dean’s hair tighter, while the other clutched desperately at his back, fist balling in his shirt. Castiel threw one of his legs around Dean’s hips, pulling their crotches right up against each other, and ground down into Dean’s own hardness.

Dean groaned and grasped Cas’ thigh, hiking it further up and moving along with the omega. With this new adjustment, Dean could feel Cas’ arousal, could _smell_ it, the intoxicatingly sugar-sweet aroma of honey, apples, and vanilla overwhelming his senses with pleasure and _want_. 

God, if he knew Cas was gonna be this responsive, Dean would’ve done this a hell of a lot sooner. Taken Castiel instead of Anna. Fallen in love. Well, more in love than he already was. Don’t get Dean wrong, he still has...commitment issues, still has trouble with expressing _emotions_ , still scared of...of so much; the possible repercussions of admitting love, the imminent rejection, even the acceptance. 

But with Cas? With Cas he wants to be brave. He wants to take every single risk, break every single barrier, fight every single threat. Dean wants to love Castiel, the badass Angel of the Lord who saved him from Hell, who doesn't understand pop culture, who is terrified of sexually forward women, yet is open to Dean’s advances. Right now, Dean wants to give everything for this man, this celestial being, because this right here is what he needs, what he _yearns_ for, and Dean thinks he deserves at least this, if only this. 

The alpha lifted his head to take in Castiel; his face was flushed, eyes shut tight and mouth open in a silent groan, a light sheen of sweat overlaying his tanned skin.

He’s gorgeous like this, Dean thought. Cas has always been one hell of a looker—Dean might have been in constant denial about it, but he’s not blind—yet right now, all excited and wanton, he’s downright irresistible. 

Castiel opened his eyes, the striking deep blue of his irises barely visible, and raised his head from the wall to look at Dean. The omega rested his forehead against Dean’s. “Dean,” he rumbled in that gravelly voice, sending shivers of arousal through the alpha’s body. Cas licked his lips, Dean’s gaze tracking the movement, the desire rolling off of him—them _both_ —in waves.

“If you need me,” the omega nearly closed the distance between their mouths, making it take all of Dean’s self control not to do it himself, “then take me.” 

“As you wish,” Dean whispered against Cas’ lips. The alpha exhaled with a grin, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, Cas.” 

All the haste and need from just moments ago calmed to a simmer as Dean slowly slid his hands up the omega’s body to gently cup Castiel’s face. 

Long, indeed. Dean’s not quite sure when exactly he had fallen for the ex-angel. Maybe when Cas had literally fallen from heaven’s graces himself, when he chose to rebel against his brothers and sisters. Fight the only family he had for humanity, for the Winchesters. For _Dean_. Maybe when he proved time and time again how he would _always_ choose Dean. Although, he suspects he’s had a big fat crush on the omega ever since Castiel saved him from The Pit—love at first sight apparently. He resisted the urge to snort, although the corners of his eyes did crinkle a little at the sentiment. 

Cas huffed out a disbelieving laugh as a small smile curved his plush lips. “How long?” he says in a barely-there whisper, looking up at Dean through dark lashes. 

Dean ran his thumb across Cas’ cheek, feeling a sappy smile tugging at his own lips, “A little too lon-”

“Dean? What the hell, man? You’re stinking up the whole-” Sam turned on the hallway light and froze. “-bunker.” 

In the blink of an eye, Dean was somehow able to shoot himself halfway across the hall, feeling like a teenager caught by his date’s father. Which isn’t actually that far from the truth if he thinks about it. Sam’s definitely the “dad” of their little family. Well, “mom” if the long hair is anything to go by.

“S-Sammy! Hey!” he greeted as nonchalantly as possible, voice a much higher pitch than he had hoped. _Great, I’m acting like a freakin’ teen too. Get it together, Winchester._ Dean cleared his throat, “Uhm…” He drew a blank. 

The alpha stood there awkwardly, mouth trying to form words and yet at a complete loss for them. _I’m never at a loss for words. What the hell?_

Sam looked at Dean with a furrowed brow and responded, “Oo-kay, then. You’re acting weird.” He paused, bringing a hand to his chin. “Well, weirder than usual.” That caused Dean to snort.

“Thanks, Sam. Means a lot.”

The sasquatch actually had the nerve to send Dean a quick wink, complete with the tongue click and smug grin. 

Sam then finally turned his head only to see Castiel who was still leaning up against the wall, blue eyes wide, cheeks tinged pink, and chest heaving. _Oh no. Cas looks totally debauched—and they didn’t even kiss! Hot, yeah, but that doesn’t help their situation at all._

“Cas?” Sam worriedly questioned. “Are you alright?”

The taller alpha approached Castiel, concernedly reaching out to lay his hand on the omega’s shoulder. When Sam’s hand landed on Cas, the ex-angel stared up at him, seeming like he was in some sort of haze, cerulean eyes out of focus. 

“You smell different, man. What’s up?” But as soon as Dean saw Sam take a whiff of Cas’ scent, instincts completely took over.

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean had roughly smacked Sam’s hand off Cas and put himself between the two, a low growl resonating in his chest. Dean knew Sam was harmless, he really did. But he couldn’t help the snarl twisting his mouth, revealing his unnaturally sharp canines. He couldn’t help the way he held out his arms to shield the omega— _his_ omega, the alpha in him supplied unhelpfully. He couldn’t help the way he backed into Castiel, guarding said omega from a nonexistent threat.

Sam instantly backed off, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Woah, woah, Dean. I won’t touch him. It’s cool, calm down.”

Rubbing his eyes wearily, Sam shook his head then looked back at the other two men, confusion written all over his face. “Can you tell me what the hell’s going on, please? It’s 4am and you’re stinking everything up and Cas is acting all weird and so are you and I’m just trying to get a little more sleep-” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m just really confused…” 

At Sam’s distraught words and expression, Dean felt himself snap out of his protective (possessive) daze and responded, “I think I’m in my rut.” _We’re going the straightforward route apparently._

“Okay, that makes sense, ‘cause you seriously reek, dude.” Dean rolled his eyes. “But that doesn’t exactly explain Cas.” Sam leaned to the side to peek behind Dean’s body, pulling a face when Cas wrapped his arms around the alpha, snuggling up closer to him. 

Dean put his hands on the omega’s. “He’s in his heat, too.” 

Cas affectionately nosed at the alpha’s ear, making Dean take in a ragged breath. 

“I, uh, think it’s my fault. I woke him up with my ‘stink,’” he airquoted, “too. Then he kind of started to, uhm, like...do stuff...which clued me in.” Dean averted his gaze from Sam’s. 

“Huh, I don’t remember Cas ever getting heats in the whole time we’ve known him. Weird.”

“Y-yeah. Apparently angels have control over that sorta thing.” Dean scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Cas ain’t had a heat since literally forever. Think his humanity or whatever is having him go into, like, a superheat, I guess.” 

“A superheat?” Sam repeated. “That means Cas is gonna be going through a lot in the next couple weeks, then.” 

“Whad'ya mean ‘a lot’? Won’t he just be going through the usual? Like heat pains and, uh...horniness?” Dean felt his blush deepen at the thought of Cas sprawled out, only in one of his fancy-ass dress shirts, unbuttoned and revealing a smooth chest, begging for Dean as the alpha slowly ran his hand up Cas’ thigh, making its way through the wetness leaking from the omega’s slicking hole and…

Dean terminated that dangerous train of thought with a hard shake of his head and looked back up at Sam, waiting for his answer. 

Unfortunately, Cas chose that moment to slide his hand underneath Dean’s shirt and splayed it across his stomach, pulling Dean upright against the omega. Dean felt the strain on his pants from his increasingly interested member and shuffled around, praying Sam wouldn’t notice.

He didn’t, completely oblivious to the arousal still lingering heavy in the air. Seriously, the guy could sleep through a smoke bomb, yet if _Dean’s_ the one stinking it up he’ll start going “wee-waw!” like a goddamn Dean-detector on the fritz. 

“Well, yeah, but if this is a heat he’s been keeping at bay for that long, then his body is going to go through the usual, just in a much more extreme way than normal.” Sam started counting off his fingers, “So his aches will be way more painful, he’ll get nauseous, his scent will get way stronger and sweeter, and he’ll most likely be super easily aroused.” Sam shrugged, dropping his hand with the movement. “There might be more, but I can’t really think of anything else.” 

Distracted by Castiel, Dean replied with a non-committal “Mhmm” and nodded, sending the taller alpha a look to say that he gets it and that Sam needs to leave, like _right the heck now_. But Sam didn’t get the hint, continuing to ramble on about how to prepare for both Cas’ superheat and Dean’s own rut.

While Sam babbled about supplies and such, Cas impatiently whined in a small voice, “Dean.” And Dean almost took the omega right then and there, but his little bit of rationality stopped him. That and the fact that Sam is literally right there—he may be a grown-ass man, but he’s still his kid brother and doesn’t deserve to see... _that_ , happen before his fragile nerdy eyes.

“Sounds great, Sam!” Dean interrupted, pointedly nodding his head towards the restless omega behind him.

Finally seeming to understand Dean’s message, Sam breathed a little “Oh.” 

Sam tried to look past Dean, but he unconsciously moved to block his brother’s view of Cas. Said brother sent Dean an unimpressed look (aka the Seriously?™ bitchface, proudly discovered and named by Dean himself). 

Dean returned Sam’s look with a glare of his own. 

Shaking his head, Sam gestured to the other two men exasperatedly. “Okay, well, whatever... _this_ is, has to stop. So you,” the alpha pointed at Dean, “need to go into town and buy stuff. And Cas needs that stuff pronto. Got it?” 

“Hell no, I don’t ‘got it!’ What I need to do is stay here, _with_ Cas.” Dean clasped Cas’ hands in his own.

“Nope, nuh-uh. That’s not happening,” Sam responded sternly.

“What do you mean ‘nope?’” Dean growled. He could feel the anger rising rapidly, burning like flame up from his belly. 

“Hey! Don’t you go all alpha on me, Dean,” his brother scolded. Sam stood his ground, crossing his arms on his chest, hazel eyes hard. “If I leave you here with Cas to get the groceries, you’re not gonna be able to control yourself around him.”

Dean put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Do you really think so little of me? C’mon, Sammy, I think I can keep it in my pants for an hour at _least_. Don’t you trust me?” He tried his most winning smile, ducking his head to look up at Sam through his lashes, one eyebrow raised, the whole shebang. 

“No. No, I don’t,” Sam answered bluntly. 

Dean schooled his features and put his hands back over Cas’, rubbing them comfortingly. Who he’s comforting is up for debate though—Cas seemed to want him to stay and Dean certainly didn’t want to go. “Yeah, well I don’t care. I ain’t leavin’,” he stated defiantly.

“Dean. Come on, dude. Not that I don’t think you guys should consummate the relationship you’ve been dodging for years now—’cause you definitely should—but you’re both hormonal and horny and as soon as I’m out that door you two are gonna start going at it like bunnies on Easter Sunday.” Sam scrunched his face up and made peace signs with his hands and then put one on top of the other, repeatedly lifting and bumping the heel of the top hand’s palm on the back of the bottom hand in an unnecessary and, quite frankly, disturbing display of bunny-humping. 

“Dude! I don’t need a visual. Put your damn hands away!” Dean grimaced and closed his eyes, attempting to rid himself of the image of horny rabbits screwing each other. When he opened his eyes again, his brother had the decency to look ashamed at his sex puppetry. 

“Look, Dean. All I’m saying is that I really don’t think now is the best time to be raising a pup, alright?” Sam frowned at the older alpha.

He actually has a good point. A really pragmatic, rational point. _Damn_. 

“Fine,” Dean grit out. “I’ll get the stupid stuff.”

Gently unwrapping Castiel’s arms from around him, Dean turned to face the omega. 

“Hey,” the alpha spoke softly, caressing Cas’ cheeks with his thumbs, “I have to go into town for some things to help you, alright? It’ll only take a little while, I’ll be back in a flash.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis and gave Castiel a small smile. “That okay?” _Not like he has much of a choice. Friggin’ Sam and his smart reasonable self._

Cas’ pretty lips turned downwards into a small frown, but he agreed with a nod and replied, “Okay, Dean.” 

“Good boy,” Dean praised. Castiel seemed to preen at that, slightly puffing out his chest.

It took all of Dean’s strength to remove himself from the omega’s side, having to forcibly move each of his limbs individually. 

When he was finally able to turn his back on Cas, he sent a death glare at Sam, stomping towards his younger brother. 

Sam had managed to compile a list of items to buy while Dean agonizingly parted from Castiel. He handed Dean the list.

Dean snatched it from him and jabbed a finger into Sam’s chest. “You touch him, you’re dead. Capisce?” 

Sam pushed Dean away from him, towards the bunker exit, and huffed, “Yeah, yeah. No touching,” he mockingly swiped his finger over his heart, “Cross my heart and all that. Now get out of here, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor, and go get your damsel a frickin’ fake knot.” Sam flicked his wrist in a shooing motion. 

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, then whirled around and stubbornly stamped his way up the bunker stairs, purposefully making it clank loudly with each of his steps. Just for shits and giggles.

* * *

Dean sped through town, trying to get this done ASAP, still extremely irritated at Sam’s untimely interruption.

He procured everything on Sam’s list and some things he wanted too: some spicy jerky (‘cause, contrary to Sam’s opinions on his capacity for a little heat, he can handle a vegetable with some flavor thankyouverymuch), a couple six-packs of beer, Sam’s rabbit food crap, a few bags of chips, and a gallon of milk. 

Then came the... _other_ stuff: a fake knot for Cas—he snorted at that, _like he’ll actually need one while I’m there_ —lube, suppressants, condoms, a toy for Dean—another snort—pads, ibuprofen, and peppermint tea. 

While ringing up Dean’s odd medley of groceries, the cashier gracefully didn’t comment on any of it, only sending Dean an apologetic smile as she handed him his receipt. Dean thanked her and headed for the automatic doors leading to the parking lot. 

Unfortunately, it had apparently rained while he was in the store. It was absolutely pouring outside, asphalt glistening from the light layer of water painting the lot. 

Dean let out a heavy sigh. He had no umbrella. _Come on, why me? What the hell’d I do to deserve this?_

Dean decided that he hated the rain (he already had a bit of disdain for the type of weather but this just heightened it), it was stupid and totally unwarranted at the moment. He lingered by the door, building up the strength to go out there as the rain pelted the ground, each drop rippling through the water collected there like a pebble in a pond.

Letting out a quick curse under his breath, he squared his shoulders and sprinted out of the store. The rain bombarded him and he hadn’t even lasted five seconds before he was drenched from head to toe, his jacket already almost soaked through. 

As soon as he got to the Impala, he shuffled around the paper bags in his grip, taking out his keys. And dropped them. 

“Aw, shit! Come _on_ ,” he swore, hurriedly bending over to pick them up. 

Once he did so, the groceries decided it was the perfect moment to slip out of the bags they were in, plopping all at once onto the asphalt with a wet smack. 

“Agh! What the actual fuck?” 

Dean angrily unlocked Baby, violently swinging open her door. Then he went to pick up the items that fell out of the bags, throwing them into the back seat with a little more force than strictly necessary. 

Slamming the door as he got into the Impala, he started her up. The roar of her engine coming to life soothed Dean a little, but not enough. The alpha swiped a hand down his face, wiping the rainwater from his brow. _God, I need Cas. And I need him now._

Before he could put Baby into drive, he heard a little ping! come from his coat pocket. Slipping his hand into the damp material, he pulled out his phone—one of those new iPhone gadgets Sam forced him to buy (“They’re the newest tech, Dean! Your 2008 Nokia is literally useless nowadays, plus it’s practically falling apart.” It wasn’t by the way, it was a _Nokia_ for crying out loud, Dean could definitely squeeze a few more years out of that thing)—and he looked at the too-big screen. It was a text from Sam with even _more_ things to go get.

**Sammy**

I forgot some stuff. Can you also buy Cas some clothes? Like t-shirts and pants. Cas only has that accountant getup he wears everyday. 

_Seriously?_

**Me**

r u kidding me? 

it’s raining cats and dogs out here

 **Sammy**

Unless you want Cas wearing your shit, since he’s not gonna fit into mine, then you need to suck it up and go to Walmart or smthing

*something*

_How the hell does Sam text so friggin’ fast?_

The image of Castiel in Dean’s clothes is not actually an unpleasant one. In fact, it is extremely appealing to his hormone-addled brain. His shirts would be slightly baggy on Cas and the omega would constantly smell like Dean, maybe he would scent his favorites of Dean’s clothes. Wearing his stuff would mean that Castiel is like Dean’s...lover...or something.

Dean gulps, mouth suddenly too dry.

**Me**

no way

i’ll go to walmart

**Sammy**

Great! See you soon 

_Yeah, great...ugh_.

Dean looked up the nearest Walmart in the area on his _Maps_ app—these iPhones are good for some things apparently—and it turns out it’s a good 56 miles away in Concordia. Fantastic. Now he’ll have to wander the town for a department store or something. 

He did end up finding a Dollar General though. Does this place even sell clothes? Might as well look around. 

When he entered the store, a bell rang way too cheerily than it had any right to at almost five in the morning, and an equally cheery old lady immediately greeted him from behind the cash register. 

“Mornin’, doll,” she smiles, her already apparent crow’s feet deepening with the expression. “What can I do for ya?” 

The woman approached Dean from around the register, putting on the... _charming_ cherry red cat-eye glasses that were hanging from her neck. Once she did so, she seemed to have gotten a much better look at the alpha, brown eyes widening in surprise. 

Taking in his matted hair, dripping clothing, and overall _wet_ state, she softly gasped, “Oh my…” 

The old lady returned to the register and whipped out a baby blue hand towel. Now wielding the towel like some sort of weapon, she hurried over to Dean with a very determined expression. 

Instinctually, Dean backed up a few steps, but before he could back away entirely, she had already flung the towel over his head, saying, “Gotcha!” 

But, unfortunately for her, she was a solid foot shorter than Dean and was struggling to reach the alpha’s shoulders’, not to mention his head’s, height. 

“I’m gonna need you to do yourself a favor and bend down for me, hun. This ol’ thang lost her ability to stretch a _long_ time ago, if you know what I mean,” the lady winked. She put her hands on her hips and cocked one out, staring up at Dean expectantly.

Dean stared right back, a little flustered and unsure how to proceed. He was certain he looked ridiculous; what, with the drenched clothes, the rag on his head, and this feisty little old lady somehow looming over him despite the fact that she’s barely taller than a sixth grader. 

She was a small woman with curly graying shoulder-length hair pulled into a half ponytail. But her defining feature would’ve had to be those beautiful brown eyes, like sun-kissed honey, little specks of gold littering the outskirts of her irises. They glinted mischievously, yet looked as if they held centuries of wisdom, a mine of uncovered secrets. Her demeanor screamed “alpha,” but her scent said “beta.” Thinking of scents... _God, I must absolutely reek right now, poor lady._

The beta tapped her foot on the dirty tile floor impatiently. “Well come on, dearie, I ain’t got all day.” Then she walked up to him, stood on her tippy toes, and knocked on his forehead. “Hello-o? Anybody in there?”

Shaking his head, Dean replied, “Uhm, sorry ma’am. Just kinda got lost in thought there.” He sends her a lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit he never seemed to be able to shake. The alpha bent down so that she could reach the towel on his head. 

“It’s no biggie, just didn’t wanna have to climb you,” she grinned. “Not that I haven’t done it before to anybody willin’.” The beta squeezed one of his biceps and hummed appreciatively. “You’d’ve most certainly been able to handle me. Damn nice figure.”

Forest green eyes widened and heat blossomed across freckle-spattered cheeks. Dean had no idea how to respond to this woman. 

She tossed her head back with a hearty laugh. “I’m just playin’ with you, sweetie.” She patted one of his pink cheeks, smiling warmly. “Like I said before, I’m too old for those sorts ‘a antics, my heart would prolly just burst from the exertin’ anyways.” She made a show of opening her palm, making a popping noise with her lips as she did so. 

The beta went back to ruffling his hair with the towel. “The name’s Beatrice, by the way. Bee to my friends and handsome lads such as yourself.” 

Now this Dean could actually reply to. “Mine’s Dean. Nice to meet you Miss Beatrice.” 

“The flattery’s very nice, dear, but it’s Bee. No Miss or Missus or _Esquire_.” Beatrice waved around her hand, twirling the towel with the motion and slapping Dean in the face. She didn’t notice. “I might be a catch but that don’t mean I’m interested in all’at.” 

Damn, this woman had to have a hell of a lot of self confidence in order to turn Dean’s attempt at politeness into a goddamn flirtatious advance. She’s like 70 for crying out loud! Maybe she’s a cougar, a cougar with really weird tactics—pretending to be a sweet old lady then bam! she’s got you in her claws, staring at you like you’re a tasty dessert...

As Dean pondered his situation and frantically eyed all of his possible escape routes, Beatrice finished drying off his hair and face and strode to the register to return the hand towel. 

The beta then took Dean by the elbow, hauling him up, and guided him towards the aisles, asking, “What’d ya come ‘ere for, dear? Know whatcha lookin’ for?” 

After debating the probability of his cougar theory, Dean decided that she was very unlikely to do much more than shameless flirting—she was more like a house cat than a predatory mountain lion, after all—plus he _did_ need some help. 

The alpha answers, “Yeah, do you guys sell men’s clothes? Like shirts and pants and stuff?” 

“Sure do! That'll be right this way down aisle 13. Follow me, sweet-cakes.” 

Bee led Dean towards the back of the store where clothing racks were neatly lined up and filled with everything ranging from jackets to underpants. Dean was pleasantly surprised. 

This place had all sorts of great stuff! There were the normal clothes, like plain t-shirts, pollo shirts, and jeans. Then there were the awesome clothes, like a retro R2D2 shirt and a sleek biker jacket. And then there were...interesting things, like the bright rainbow flannel with a yellow smiley face on the back and the pair of cigarette trousers absolutely _smothered_ in dozens of colorful miniature moustaches—fashion sense is still a thing, right? What the hell’s with moustaches and rainbows? That’s like 14-year-old-girl-with-a-horoscope-obsession and hippies and Mexico all bundled into a crappy cornucopia masquerading as an item of clothing. 

Moving on from the horrendous trends of this decade, Dean found himself staring at one shirt in particular. It was a baby yellow t-shirt saying “Don’t worry, _bee_ happy” with a simple cartoon bee in the middle. A sad smile quirked his lips as he remembered when Cas had practically gone insane after taking away Sam’s hell-visions. That was when he learned Cas adored bees, having said he wanted to become a naked beekeeper. Dean huffed a small laugh at that. 

“Who’s the lucky boy?” 

Bee’s quiet, almost whispered question snapped him out of his memories of a bee-loving, pacifist Castiel. Dean turned to look at the older woman, noticing her warm smile, wrinkles softly deepening with her tender countenance, almost like she was lost in a memory herself. 

“My best friend, Cas. He really likes bees,” the alpha responded as he stroked the shirt’s soft fabric between his fingers. 

“Well then I bet he’d like me too, huh?” Bee teased. The beta wandered over to Dean and took the shirt off the hanger, lifting it up in the fluorescent light of the store. “Here, better lighting.”

She held it up for a little while then asked, “How ‘bout it? You wanna get this for your beau?” 

Dean choked on his spit, coughing into his fist for a good thirty seconds as he tried to catch his breath again. “Sorry, my _what_?”

Bee raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Your boyfriend, a beau. Your partner. They mean the same thing.” 

“Yeah, I know what 'beau' means. But Cas? No, he’s not- he doesn't feel-,” doesn’t feel what? The same way? What a stupid question. “uhm, it’s not like... _that_. I just- _we’re_ just friends...best friends, y’know?” Dean shrugged, trying and failing at casualness. _Real smooth. Smooth like gravel on pavement._

“Uh huh,” Bee nods slowly, clearly not believing a word that just came out of Dean’s mouth—not like he can blame her, Dean doesn’t believe himself either. As the beta began putting the bee t-shirt back on the clothing hanger, she continued, “It’s no use denyin’ those feelings, dear. They’ll only get stronger the longer you wait and before you know it, it’ll be too late.” 

She turned around with a bittersweet smile, regret openly conveyed within those rich hickory eyes. Her wrinkles seemed more pronounced, making her age more apparent with the expression. Bee brought her fingers to her collarbone and gingerly pulled out a silver locket from underneath her blouse, caressing it fondly. 

After a few long moments, Bee cleared her throat. “You enjoyin’ the view? Didn’t take ya for a player,” she joked. 

Only then did Dean realize he was staring at the locket for a bit too long, which was hanging in the general vicinity of her bosom. Snapping his gaze back up at her, he shook his head. 

“Oh, uhm, sorry. I wasn’t- I was just looking at your necklace.” He coughed awkwardly. “Whoever it was must’ve meant a lot to you, huh?” 

“She did.” That hint of wisdom showed itself fully now, rising from the chocolatey depths of her gaze. A knowing grin spread across her features.

Beatrice handed Dean the bee shirt and patted his shoulder. “He may not be your _beau_ ,” she mockingly emphasized the word, “but he is your friend and I still think you should get this for him. It’ll no doubt be appreciated, regardless of your intentions.” 

Dean smiled. “Alright.” 

Then the alpha went back to the racks to pick out other, more nondescript clothing...and maybe one piece of straight up terrible clothing—as a gag gift, I mean c’mon, it’s too good to pass up.

Once he was finally finished, Dean brought the assortment of clothes to the register where Bee was patiently waiting.

“Find everything you need, sweets?” she asked. 

“Yep, thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.” All of it. 

“Of course.” Bee smirked as she scanned the bee t-shirt and moustache-ridden cigarette trousers. “It’s my pleasure.” 

While the beta rang up the last of his items, Dean suddenly blurted, “What happened?” 

Bee tilted her head quizzically, before understanding dawned. “Curious one aren’t ya? You know how they say curiosity killed the cat, right?” 

“But satisfaction brought it back,” the alpha quipped. If she really didn’t want to share, Dean wouldn’t prod, but...he’d like some foresight, you know? 

“Smart aleck.” Beatrice scowled and clicked her tongue. But then her features softened into a smile. “I confessed to her and she reciprocated.” Bee tenderly touched the locket, then gripped it tighter, her nutmeg and pumpkin scent going sour. 

“Unfortunately, she was battling cancer, which was the only reason I decided that I had to do something, say something, _anything_ , before she was taken from me. She died two days after we admitted our love. She was 33.” 

The beta wiped away a tear and sniffed back any others. “I thought I had all the time in the world, but I was so, _so_ wrong. My fear kept me from the one thing, the one person I wanted most. And I ran out of time.” Bee reached out to gently grab Dean’s hand. “But you don’t have to see the same fate, Dean. You can have that happily ever after if you just _speak_. Just say something, darling. It’s only three words.” 

She locked her gaze with Dean’s, eyes shimmering with hope—hope for _Dean_ —and gave his hand a small squeeze. “I’ve got faith in you, dear.” 

The alpha stared at her in momentary shock at her words. She had faith in him. A complete stranger believed he could do this, something he considered harder than stopping the freaking apocalypse. Huh, that’s...that’s really nice, actually.

Dean squeezed back gratefully and then Beatrice let go in order to put the clothes into a bag. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” What else could he say? That he knows how short life is, that everything can be taken away in the snap of a finger? That he’s terrified of both sides of the goddamn spectrum; of confessing too soon and waiting too long? 

“Me too, sweetie. Me too.” Bee handed him the bag with a little smile. 

“Thanks. Y’know, for telling me. It’s probably hard for you to talk about.” Dean fidgeted with the bag, shifting it from hand to hand. 

“Actually, it was very nice to get it all out. I guess I can kinda find the appeal of therapy and talkin’ to a shrink,” the beta let out a quiet chuckle. And it’s real, small, but still real. It allowed a smile to make its way to Dean’s lips. 

“Meh, I still have my doubts on that.”

This time Bee laughed a little louder. “So cynical,” she teased, landing a soft punch on his upper bicep. 

“Now get your Debbie Downer ass outta my store and go charm the pants off your best friend.” Beatrice slapped his bottom. “Get a move on you slowpoke!”

Dean laughed his way out of the store as he deliberately walked as slow as possible while going slightly boneless on the tiny woman trying to push the alpha out. 

This day might not be as bad as he thought after all. 

* * *

Apparently, the universe had a different plan for Dean because on his way out of town, he just happened to catch every. Single. Red light. He slammed his head down on the wheel, causing the horn to wail in an echo of what was going through Dean’s head. _Great. God, I love my life._

* * *

Half an hour later brings Dean to right now, where he stands soaking wet at the door of the kitchen with his arms full of equally soaked groceries, staring at Cas as the omega dances around the countertops covered in...flour? 

Is Cas baking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, my dudes!
> 
> If you decided to read this through, I want to sincerely thank you for doing so! It means a heck of a lot to me to know someone liked this story enough to finish the chapter.
> 
> I didn't tell you guys in the description, but this is the very first fanfic I've written! How was it? Got any feedback for me: questions, criticisms, thoughts, etc? I would love to hear all of it in the comments section below! Anything you guys have to say will be taken to heart and I'll do my best to improve :)  
> _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
> 
> Anyways, this will be a short ficlet with 2-3 chapters (I'm not quite sure yet) and about 9,000 words each, give or take a couple thousand. I'll try to update ASAP so that I won't keep those of you who enjoyed it waiting, but I'm not sure how long it would take me to write another chapter (could be a week, could be a month). So I wanna apologize in advance for those of you who'd be waiting. I know how frustrating it can be when a fic doesn't update for a while, but I just can't soundly guarantee a steady update schedule due to school, college and scholarship applications, and work.
> 
> Setting that aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and my attempt at touchy-feely scenes and emotions and humor. This chapter was written more to build everything up and provide some sort of background, so stay tuned for the fluffy scenes I promised in the summary (sorry that I couldn't get to it sooner, I was not expecting to write so much) and Cas baking!
> 
> Again, thank you a TON for reading and I'll see you all later! Hasta luego, chicos ;P


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